I
stood atop Preacher Rock for nearly an hour taking in the view and thinking
about the importance of stepping away from society and technology. This was the
first time in two days of hill climbing that I couldn’t spot the influence of
man for as far as the eye could see. It was a wonderful, yet fleeting
experience as a group of hikers had just began to summit, and with that, I was
on my way.
The next few hours seemed to drag on
longer than usual. The terrain was nicely varied, breathtaking at times, monotonous
at others, but there really is something to be said for human interaction.
After all, we did evolve as social creatures. Trailside depression was
something I have come to realize exists and I have yet figured out how to deal
with it. As I kept on pounding out the miles I got close to the wall again. The
distance between water sources on this stretch of trail is weird. You will run into
patches where there is water every half a mile and then there will be a dry
section that’s 8 miles long. My choices on this were to hike 6 miles, 14 miles,
or somewhere between there without water. I personally only carry two liters of
water, and with rationing I like to be close to empty by the time I’m afforded
an opportunity to refill. So, today was a 14 mile day. I slept next to
water but soon would realize it didn’t really matter.
I made camp at Woods Hole alongside
a boyscout troop. I hung my hammock on the edge of the site and got in and out
a few times making adjustments to my suspension until it was perfectly dialed
in. This was something I didn’t do the night prior and am willing to bet that that
lead to my poor night’s sleep. Dinner was alfredo with salmon which was not hateful at
all. As I was kicking back and drinking my hot chocolate watching the troops try to
decide who was going to spark the campfire and who was allowed to hold the
knife, I felt comfort in their presence. My son, being 5, is coming up on the
time where I’d like to get him out camping I’ve dragged my feet all spring and I
really need to prioritize it or else it will never happen. There were a dozen
kids here, all 12-13 years old, and watching them work together to do stuff
like cook, and hang bear bags, was entertaining to me. As I finished up my
cocoa I looked at the clouds. Having had looked at the weather before my trip I
knew there was a small chance of rain, but it hadn’t rained last night and I was
hoping it wouldn’t tonight. I hung my ridgeline anyhow to aid in rapid tarp
deployment if it started in the middle of the night.
Again, the sun began to set and I
crawled into the hammock. Exhausted from the day and still really hot, I could
not stop sweating. It was pretty warm yet and with the lack of a breeze, it
wasn’t getting any cooler. That was until the rain came.
At first it was a couple drops; just
enough to encourage me to hang my tarp. I hung it high as it was hardly raining
and I didn’t want to trap in heat. As soon as I got back in the hammock, all
hell broke loose. Massive water drops slammed into the tarp as thunder roared through the canyons. It wasn’t quite dark yet, but the lightning was clear as day.
The wind began to come in sideways and I heard the boyscouts running around
hollering to one another trying to get in their tents before they got soaked. I
hopped out and dropped my tarp down closer to the hammock. Storm mode is what I
call it, and storm mode is exactly what was needed. Rain water rushed beneath
me as if I had hung over a river. It came from all angles and thrashed my tarp about, really testing my knot tying skills. It continued like this for at least
half an hour, and I couldn’t help but think of the two guys I had met the day
prior. When it finally let up, we all emerged from our shelters to evaluate
the damage.
A pair of kids whom had left vents
open and another that had set up downhill got totally soaked. Through
trial and error, meticulous research and a bit of luck, I was completely dry.
After the excitement around camp wore off and the kids simmered down, I crawled
back in the hammock and went to sleep. Tomorrow was a big day. I would be
summiting Blood Mountain, the highest peak my state had to offer along the
Appalachian Trail, where my wife and kid would be waiting to pick me up.
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